#cow punchers

[gameraboy2]

Cow Punchers by Ernest "Darcy" Chiriacka, 1978

[likeyua]

WEST OF LOATHING (2017) dev. Asymmetric Publications

Main menu • character creation

[browsethestacks]

5 Random Comics

[mudwerks]

Cow Puncher Comics #4 (Avon, 1948)

Al Ulmer cover and art. Al Hollingsworth text illustrations. Fred Kida art.

[bloodybosom]

[cccovers]

Cow Puncher Comics #3 (1947) cover by Allen Ulmer.

[chapuyes]

U ever wonder what the cowboy is doing in Bram Stoker’s Dracula? PLEASE read this article, I’ll even post the thesis so u can skim it & gnaw on the idea and maybe read the whole thing.

“This article argues both that Buffalo Bill and his Wild West show were important inspirations for Bram Stoker’s novel Dracula and that, in the Wild West show, as in Dracula, the frontiers of racial encounter were invested with the possibility of degeneration and the necessity of race war. Pairing show and novel in this way, we begin to see how late nineteenth-century, progressive frontier myth and the literature of gothic horror represented homologous fictional worlds, divergent but sprung from common origins on mythic race frontiers.”

[thefelinefox]

INHALES

the

BOYYYY!!!!!

[butchyena]

tom and jerry howling about my back right now

[vastiitas]

A tide swallows him up whole. Maybe it's all the blood that's rushed to his head, the heat of a worry-drenched temper snapping like a decades-dry tree branch, or the abrupt loss of it spluttering like a damn hose from his wound. Maybe it's both, some vertigo spell burning, slugged by an engine back-fire choked on the tar of its own compulsions. Whatever the hell it is, it swallows him – and he is reduced to something hungry, something animal, and his teeth clacks recklessly, ravenously, against Rian's. Copper dresses the taste of this kiss down to the sting of broke skin that weeps it and there is some half-minded temptation bullying the back of his mind to drown them both in it.

They part. His lips split to a noiseless snarl, pathos-blinded and chasing, but his balance staggers and it's enough to pit the heels of his mind back against the belly of the Earth. Rian speaks, but Cole's head is dishwasher dizzy. He understands the tonation more than the words, is more aware of the slickness of blood that he's left on Rian's cheeks, the sticky cradle of the other's shirt fisted in his hands (that he doesn't remember hoisting) in some piss-poor bid to keep himself upright.

"Ain't s'ppose," His voice is hoarse, scraped against a well of rocks. A wry, haughty humor flashes off teeth, "There's any time better than the present."

❗❗❗//but it's bloody and his hands leave a wake of red against Rian's jaws,

THE SHOCK IS STILL COURSING THROUGH him like a tidal wave from an ocean he's yet to meet, strong and thick. He's not even the one that's been hurt, but Rian feels as though he's stood in front of a train and let it pummel him anyways, as his gaze wanders over a body that's grown to be so FAMILIAR it might as well be his own.

There's blood.

That's the first thing that reaches the cowboy's brain. It blossoms along a split lip, down the sharp features of a calming face, an array over the chest. White shirt stained crimson, mixed with dust and grime and the hoof-print of an angry bull.

He'd dragged Cole out of the ring with a vice grip, tight along the collar and twisted in the vest that's been forgotten about now. Checked him over for injuries that were BLISSFULLY missing except for the tight GASH across a chest where the bull's horn had twisted.

Where there was once anger, it's subsided to relief. That white-hot panic of loss, releasing to the comfort of his safety.

He'd YELLED at him. Cole's tone tight and raw, as he'd flashed him with those eyes that made the other cowboy's heart tense — but that, too, has gone away now in favor of something else entirely. The hands are slick, and he tastes ichor on his tongue as teeth clash, lips smashing together in a cacophony of adrenaline. For once, Rian finds he doesn't care, fingers gripping at the torn shirt, at a frame that feels so heavy and hot against his own.

Their argument is forgotten in favor of reminding each other what it FEELS to be together. There's dissonance ringing in his ears.

❝ Easy, easy — Y'just go' gored, y'idio'. ❞

[howlingday]

And here, we find a typical Texas cow puncher...

Wait a minute... This isn't right...

Yang: OOOOOH~! So you're wondering, too~!

[gameraboy2]

Cow Puncher Comics #6 (1949), cover by Walter Johnson

[thefandomlesbian]

"Have yu' studied much about marriage?" he now inquired. His serious eyes met mine as he lay stretched along the ground.

"Not much," I said; "not very much."

"Let's swim," he said. "They have changed their minds."

Forthwith we shook off our boots and dropped our few clothes, and heedless of what fish we might now drive away, we went into the cool, slow, deep breadth of backwater which the bend makes just there. As he came up near me, shaking his head of black hair, the cow-puncher was smiling a little.

"Not that any number of baths," he remarked, "would conceal a man's objectionableness from an antelope—not even a she-one."

We dried before the fire, without haste. To need no clothes is better than purple and fine linen. Then he tossed the flap- jacks, and I served the trout, and after this we lay on our backs upon a buffalo-hide to smoke and watch the Tetons grow more solemn, as the large stars opened out over the sky.

"I don't care if I never go home," said I.

—"Hank's Woman," Owen Wister, 1891

Reflections on homoplatonic companionship among cowboys in the American West from A Queer History of the United States

[browsethestacks]

Cow Puncher (1947-1949)

[t-umblr-plays-loathing]

Asleep on the Your Family Farm farm, Tumblr McLoathing dreams of greatness. They dream of... choosing a character class!

Cow Punchers solve their problems with their fists, whether it's shaking them at a disagreeable feller in a disreputable saloon or using them to punch a slightly more disagreeable feller in a slightly less reputable saloon.

Magic and cooking are inextricably intertwined in Loathing and the Beanslinger is the mystical master of both.

Snake Oilers rely on their moxie and chutzpah to tame snakes, their fearlessness to extract potent oils from those snakes, and their cleverness to manufacture and sell potions made from those oils.

[i-am-very-heck]

hey look at these guys i drew on a doodle page from sometime last year i think

a snake oiler, a cow puncher, and a beanslinger :)